


The Girl That I Adore

by jdmusiclover



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmusiclover/pseuds/jdmusiclover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Future AU. Emma wakes from a nightmare one night and finds her husband, Killian Jones, missing from their bed. Emma has a pretty good idea where to find him. Another beautiful blonde has captured his heart-and Emma couldn't be happier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

_“So sorry, Dearie, but you’re too late,” Gold cackled as the fine powder that five minutes before had been Killian’s heart slipped through his scaly fingers.  “I suggest you learn to live without your_ pirate _, just as you learned to live without my son.  There’s no coming back from where he’s gone.”_

_“NO!” Emma screamed, running to Killian, cradling his lifeless body within her arms.  Tears ran in rivulets down her face as the crushing grief descended on her like a blanket._

Emma woke with a start, heart pounding, breathing ragged.  The dream had been so _real_!  As she opened her eyes, she half expected to find herself in the backroom of Gold’s Pawn shop, the pall of death hanging in the air. 

For a moment she was disoriented in the pitch black room, and then she heard it, the soothing crash of the waves upon the shore, and she relaxed.  She was home, in her own bedroom, in her own little apartment by the sea.  She’d moved in two years ago—just after Rumplestiltskin’s duplicity with the sorcerer’s hat had been discovered.  She would never forget the panic she’d felt as she raced to the Dark One’s shop, desperate to arrive in time to prevent the son of a bitch from murdering the man she loved.

She’d thought she’d lost Killian at first.  Rumple squeezed Killian’s bright glowing heart until he fell limply to the floor.  Emma had reacted instinctively.  Marshalling all her strength, she’d shot a burst of magic at Mr. Gold that was so strong it knocked him unconscious to the floor.  Emma pried Killian’s heart from the imp’s hand, but it was still. 

So still, so lifeless. 

Emma felt a fear stronger and more potent than any she’d ever experienced as she gently, lovingly cradled the heart—the heart that she knew belonged entirely to her.  Desperate, she placed it back within the shelter of his chest.

Nothing happened.

“No,” she whispered brokenly, shaking him.  The anger came next. “Don’t you dare do this to me, Killian Jones!  You told me you were a survivor; you told me I didn’t need to worry!  That damn well better be the truth, you stupid pirate!”

He remained motionless. 

The tears welled within Emma’s eyes and spilled over.  This couldn’t be happening!  She loved him!  She loved him with every fiber of her being, and she’d never even gotten the chance to say the words to him.

_True Love’s Kiss can break any spell_.  She heard the words as clearly as if they’d been spoken.  A wild hope welled up within her.  Was it possible?  Was there still a chance to save him?

Possible or not, she _had_ to try.  Emma leaned down.  “I love you Killian; please, please come back to me.”  She rested her lips against his, and suddenly a rainbow tinted pulse radiated from them to encompass the entire room.

“Swan?”  he’d croaked, reaching up to cradle her face.  “Is it you love?”

She’d crushed him to her, crying and laughing.  “Who else do you think would give you true love’s kiss, you idiot?”

A particularly strong gust of cool, salty air blew in her window, bringing Emma back to the present.  It was _cold_.   Trust her crazy pirate husband to insist they sleep with their window open no matter how cold it got.

“There’s nothing like the murmur of the sea to lull you to sleep, lass,” he’d insisted the first night they’d spent together in her apartment— _their_ apartment.  “It’s as soothing as a lullaby; next best thing to sleeping on a ship.”

She’d given in of course.  When she thought of all he’d done for her, all he’d given up for her, she could hardly refuse him this.  Emma smiled, love welling up within her.  She turned over, hoping to burrow into her husband’s warmth, but she was met with empty sheets.

“Killian?” she called into the quiet bedroom.

No answer.  She felt a moment’s alarm, still in the grip of the nightmare’s terror, and then she relaxed.  If she knew her husband, and she most certainly did, she knew exactly where he must be.

Emma eased open their bedroom door and tiptoed across the hall to the tiny little room where the newest member of the Jones family resided.  Eva Ruth Jones, named for her two maternal great-grandmothers had come into the world two months ago yesterday.  The moment the nurse laid her in her father’s arms for the first time, it was clear.  That little six pound bundle of joy had completely stolen her father’s heart.

The sight that met Emma’s eyes as she silently pushed the nursery door open, brought tears to her eyes.  Killian sat in the wooden rocking chair, little Eva cradled lovingly in his arms.  Emma leaned against the doorjamb and watched.

“Hush now, little love,” Killian crooned gently, “you don’t want to wake your mama.  Bad form, that.  You’ve led her a merry chase these last few weeks and she needs her sleep.”

Eva stilled, her fussing forgotten.  She trained bright blue eyes on her father, and he leaned down, brushed fine wisps of blonde hair aside, and gently kissed her forehead.

“Papa’s here, my lamb,” Killian continued, “but it’s long past time for you to sleep.  Perhaps a lullaby’s in order.”

Killian began to sing, his pleasing baritone as smooth and warm as a mug of cocoa on a cold winter’s day.

“ _Fair thee well, my lovely Eva_

_A thousand times adieu_

_We are bound away from Storybrooke_

_And the girls we love so true._

_We’ll sail the salt seas over_

_And we’ll return once more_

_And still I live in hope to see_

_My little girl once more._

_You’re the girl that I adore,_

_And still I live in hope to see_

_My little girl once more.”_

 

Emma slowly backed away and eased the nursery door closed, the last vestiges of her nightmare disappearing in the sweet ache of love she felt for her little family.  Storybrooke may be crazy with a different psychotic villain showing up just about every week, but Emma Swan Jones wouldn’t trade her life for all the money in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

            Five-year-old Eva hurried up the stairs of Grandma and Grandpa’s loft, her three-year old brother, Liam, quick on her heels.  They were going to spend a whole week with Grandma and Grandpa and seven-year-old Uncle Neal.  She couldn’t wait to get to the play room.  Uncle Neal had the coolest toys in the world!

            This was the longest she ever remembered staying here at the loft.  Sometimes she and Liam spent a night or even a weekend, but they’d never stayed a whole week.  She’d be thrilled at the prospect—except Mama and Papa had acted so strange when they dropped them off half an hour ago, and Grandma had seemed excited—but also kind of nervous.  Eva didn’t know for sure what was going on, but she had a pretty good guess.

            It all started several months ago.  Mama and Papa had sat her and Liam down and told them that Mama had another baby in her tummy.  Eva had, naturally, asked the logical question:

            “Papa, how did the baby get in Mama’s tummy?”

            Mama choked on the sip of hot cocoa she’d just taken, but Papa had just laughed.

            “Well, little love, papas have special seed, and when mamas find them irresistible, papas do a bit of…er…gardening.”

            “Killian!”  Mama had bellowed.

            Papa simply raised an eyebrow and grinned at her.  “Aye, love?”

            “You can’t tell our daughter that!  She’s only four-years-old!”

            “Come, Swan,” Papa replied, “my explanation was sufficiently vague that the lass has escaped the scarring knowledge of what her parents do when alone in their bed chamber.”

            It was all very confusing, but neither Mama nor Papa had seemed to be any more forthcoming about how babies get into mamas’ tummies, so Eva assumed they didn’t know any more than she did and left it at that.

            A couple months later, Mama told her that it wasn’t just one baby in her tummy, it was two.  Eva was going to have a brother _and_ a sister.

            Everything led up to today—the day Papa took Mama to the hospital so that she could get the babies.

            It was very disconcerting.  Mama and Papa had been acting weird all day.  Mama had been moving slowly all day, stopping every once and a while to clench her fists and groan.  Papa had been beside himself, at Mama’s side constantly.

            “Swan!  You’re in pain!”

            Mama had swatted at him.  “Of course I’m in pain, Killian; I’m about to push two human beings out of my body.  It’s all your fault, by the way.”

            “Aye,” he’d said, hand and hook fluttering helplessly.  “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.  Is there ought you need?  Ought I can get for you?”             Mama had swatted him again as though he was a fly buzzing around her head.  “I’m fine.  Stop hovering.  I’ve done this three times before, remember?  I know the drill.”

            “At least allow me to call Whale on my talking phone; take you to the hospital.”

            “Killian, my contractions are a good forty-five minutes apart.  We’ve got hours yet.  I’d much rather spend them here at home than in the hospital.”

            Papa had grumbled, but dropped the subject.

            It had been a rough day.  Neither Mama nor Papa seemed to want to pay any attention to her.  Eva sat down to put together her favorite Curious George puzzle, but found it too difficult.  She’d asked Mama for help, but Mama was distracted.  Her mind seemed to be elsewhere, and Eva didn’t like it at all.  Why was Mama acting so strange?

            A few minutes later, Mama returned from a trip to the bathroom, and headed for the closet to get her coat.

            “I think you better call my parents,” she’d said to Papa.  “My water just broke; it’s time.”

            Papa sprang into action—calling Grandma and Grandpa, helping Mama on with her coat, grabbing her suitcase, ushering her, Eva and Liam out the door and into their car.

            And so here she was at Grandma’s house while Mama went to get the babies.

            Liam and Uncle Neal made a bee-line for the toy cars Grandma kept in a plastic bin under the window, while Emma headed toward the toy chest where Uncle Neal kept his Lego sets.  Eva loved the pirate ship set; it always reminded her of Papa and the exciting stories he tells of his days as a pirate.

            Eva had no more than spread the sheet of paper giving directions for construction, before Neal was at her side trying to wrench the bag of Legos from her hand.

            “Hey!” he said.  “That’s what _I_ was going to play with.”

            Eva frowned.  “Uh-uh!  You were playing cars with Liam.”

            “So?” Neal asked, tugging at the bag.  “I want to build the pirate ship!”

            “Well I got it first!”

            “Doesn’t matter.  It’s _my_ Lego set.  You can’t play with it unless I tell you you can!”

            Neal gave one more strong tug, and the bag slipped through Eva’s fingers.  She stomped her foot in anger.  Usually she was in awe of her uncle.  He was so _cool_.  He’d even started learning how to read!  Sometimes, though, he was nothing but a big fat meanie.

            “You’re a…you’re a poopy head!” Eva said, pulling out the strongest language in her five-year-old vocabulary.

            “Am not!” he yelled indignantly.  “You take that back, Eva Jones!”

            “No!”

            Neal frowned.  “You take that back or I’m going to tell Mama!”

            Eva thought quickly.  “You tell her, and I’ll tell her that you said ‘bloody hell’ the other day!”

            That took him aback.  “Well….well…your papa says that all the time.”

            “So?  He’s a grown up.  Grown-ups can say ‘bloody hell’ if they want to, but if I tell Grandma, she’ll put you in time-out.”

            Time-out.  The worst possible punishment for an active seven-year-old boy.  Eva saw with satisfaction that the threat hit home as the fear crossed Neal’s face.  After a moment though, it was replaced with a crafty look.

            “You just said it too!  You said grown-ups can say ‘bloody hell’!  If you tell my mama; I’ll tell your parents.”

            He had her there.  Papa would probably just laugh and say “that’s my pirate lass!”, but Mama would not be pleased; she would not be pleased at all.

            “Fine!” Eva conceded.  “I won’t tell, but you still have to give back the Legos.  I had them first.”

            “No!  Find something different to play.”

            It was at that moment that Grandma walked in to the playroom.  “What’s all the yelling about?”

            “Neal took the pirate set away from me!” Eva whined.

            “So?  It’s _mine_!”  Neal countered.

            Grandma looked assessingly from one to the other, and then turned to her son.  “Neal, in this house we share.  If Eva had the pirate set first, you need to give it back to her.  You prefer the castle set anyway.”

            “But Mama…!”

            “No Neal,” Grandma said sternly.  “Give it back to Eva.”

            After a moment of indecision, Neal thrust the bag of Legos back into Eva’s arms, malevolent glare firmly in place.  As soon as Grandma left and went back downstairs, Eva shot Neal a smug look and stuck out her small, pink tongue.

            Neal’s face turned decidedly malicious.   “It’s okay; I don’t care.  Have the dumb pirate set if you want.  You better enjoy getting what you want while you can, because you won’t for long.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Neal grinned.  “Everybody knows what happens when Mamas and Papas have new babies.  They don’t care about their older kids any more.   They only love the new babies.”

            “That’s not true!” Eva spat.  “Papa and Mama love me; they’ll always love me.”

            Neal scoffed.  “Just you wait; you’ll see.”

            Eva turned her back on her uncle and set to work on construction of the pirate ship, trying to banish his words from her mind.  Surely they wouldn’t stop loving her, would they?  Not Mama and Papa!  But a small, nasty voice reminded her that maybe they already had.  What else could explain their inattention earlier today?

 

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

 

_1 month later_

 

            Emma breathed a contented sigh as she returned to her bed and Killian’s waiting arms.

            “Got them settled again, love?” he asked, ghosting a kiss across her forehead.

            “Yeah,” she said on a yawn.  “Your son was evidently hungry.  Again.”

            She and Killian had brought their newborn twins, Charles and Leia, home three weeks ago, and Emma felt like she hadn’t slept since.  Caring for one newborn was tiring enough, but two?  She didn’t know if she’d survive it.

            Killian laughed.  “He’s a strapping lad; needs his nourishment.”

            “I can’t wait for the days when he doesn’t need his nourishment in the middle of the night.”

            “I can’t disagree with you there, love.”

            Emma turned her head and kissed him softly.  “Killian, remind me again why we thought it was a good idea to have four kids under the age of five?”

            Killian chuckled.  “Well, Darling, you seem to have extraordinary difficulty keeping your hands off of my devilishly handsome person.”

            Emma slapped him lightly, rolling her eyes even though he couldn’t see in the pitch-black room.  “Somebody’s got a high opinion of himself.”

            Killian laughed again.  “In all seriousness, love, I seem to remember it began at the naming ceremony of Regina and Robin’s new princess.  No sooner had the former Evil Queen laid her lass in your arms than the _look_ once more came over your face.  You made comment about how much you missed having a baby, given that Liam was two years old.  It came as no shock to me when later that night you nearly begged me to give you another baby.”

            “And you did see fit to make me see reason?”

            Killian was quiet for a moment, merely running his fingers soothingly through her hair.  Finally he answered.  “No, love, I didn’t.  I’d have ten children with you if you so wished.  We were both scarred by our lonely, childhoods, and now I have more family than I know what to do with .  I’m grateful beyond words for you, our children, your parents, everyone.  You all are a gift I’d never thought I’d be given.”

            Emma felt her heart melt within her.  She kissed him softly, gently, letting the caress linger.  “I love each and every one of our children, Killian,” she murmured when the kiss finally ended, “and I wouldn’t trade any of them for the world.  I would, however, give my entire life savings for an uninterrupted night of sleep.”

            Killian chuckled and rubbed her back soothingly.  “Well, Swan, we’ve got peace now.  Best you take advantage of it.  It’s sure to disappear soon enough.”

            As if on cue, a strident cry broke the silence.

            Emma groaned, and then moved to get up, but Killian stopped her with a hand to her arm.  “Stay, love.  Get some rest.  It’s my turn this time.”

            She gave him a quick kiss in thanks, and then settled back down onto her pillow.  She listened for a moment as the baby’s (Leia this time, if she wasn’t mistaken) cries stilled, and then she closed her eyes.

            Killian was right.  Having a large, loving family was like a dream come true for the unloved, abandoned little girl she used to be.  Having four young children might be crazy and chaotic and noisy and messy and tiring, but it was also heartwarming as anything she’d ever experienced.

            As she drifted off, Emma let her mind wander over her young brood.  The newborns were…newborns.  As of yet, they did little but, eat, sleep, cry and mess their diapers.  Then there was Liam, with his dark hair and blue eyes, he was basically a carbon copy of his dad.  She’d worried about how he’d take to no longer being the baby of the family.  She’d feared he’d be jealous of the newest additions to the Jones clan, but her worry turned out to be groundless.  Liam had taken to being a big brother with relish.

            And then, of course, there was Eva.  Emma frowned slightly as she thought about her first born.  Something was obviously bothering her; she hadn’t been her normal sunny self for days now.  Emma had tried to talk to her about it, find out what was bothering her daughter, but Eva had always brushed off her questions.  Busy as Emma had been with the twins, she hadn’t probed any deeper, but now she wondered if that was wise.  Whatever was bothering Eva seemed to be getting worse.

            Emma yawned and let her eyes close.  Eva was a daddy’s girl through and through.  She’d discuss it with Killian; have him talk to their oldest daughter.  If anyone could bring a smile to the little girl’s face it was her papa.  With that decision made, Emma slipped into sleep.

 

xoxoxoxoxoxox

 

            “Killian!  Killian, wake up!”

            Killian groaned and burrowed deeper under the covers, placing his pillow over his head.  It had been a ridiculously short night, and he wasn’t relinquishing sleep without a fight.

            Suddenly the covers were pulled back, and Emma was shaking his shoulder.  “Come on, Killian!  You’ve got to get up!”

            Suddenly, Swan’s tone registered with him. _Panic_.  He hadn’t heard that level of panic in her voice since she’d rushed to his side after the bloody Crocodile _almost_ crushed his heart.  He sat up so quickly he got lightheaded, suddenly wide awake.

            “Swan?  What’s the matter love?”

            “It’s Eva,” she said, running a distracted hand through her hair and pacing.  “She’s gone, Killian!”

            An icy chill ran over him.  “Gone?  What do you mean ‘gone’?”

            Emma stopped her pacing and turned to face him.  “When I got up this morning, I checked on the kids like always, but Eva wasn’t in her bed.  I checked the kitchen, the bathroom, everywhere, but she’s _not_ _here_!  Then I noticed the front door was open.  Killian what if something happened to her?  What if some new villain…?”

            Killian surged to his feet and wrapped her in his arms, needing to comfort “Calm down, love.  We’ll find her.  There’s been no indication of a new villain in town, so let’s not jump to conclusions.”

            Emma pulled back and looked up at him.  “It’s been a good three months since we defeated the latest evil.  We’re due for another one, and what better way to make a first impression than kidnapping the savior’s kid?!  O God!  I need to be out there!  We need to find her.  Who the hell knows what he’s doing to her right now?  If he harms a hair on her head…”

            Killian cut her off with a kiss.  He had to break her panic, help her calm down, and this was the only strategy he could come up with.  She tensed for a moment, and then relaxed into the embrace.  Killian kept the kiss light and gentle, a gesture meant to soothe, not to enflame.  When he pulled back, he was pleased to see that the desperation had left her eyes.

            “Emma, love, we _will_ find her,” he promised.  “We’ve faced unimaginable obstacles and have never yet failed to prevail.  Finding our lost little lass will be no different.”

            She took a deep breath, and then nodded.  “We need to go search.  We need to be out there.”

            “Aye,” he said, turning from her to throw on his clothing.  “ _I_ will go out and search.”

            Her eyes narrowed at his pronoun, and he knew he was about to feel his Swan’s wrath.  “What do you mean _you_ will go out and search?  If you think I’m going to just sit home and wring my hands like some stupid damsel in distress you’re delusional, Killian Jones!”

            “Emma,” he said, “we can’t very well leave Liam and the twins unattended.  Someone must care for them.”

            “And that someone has to be me because…?”

            Killian donned his leather jacket and then went to her, placing hand and hook on her shoulders and staring into her eyes.  “Because you are far more adept at using the talking phone, love.  We’ll find our lass far more quickly if we’re logical and methodical at our search.  I’ll comb the streets for her while you telephone your father at the station, Eva’s friends, anyone else you believe might know her whereabouts.  When you’ve exhausted your enquiries, ask your mother to stay with the children, then come join me on the search.”

            Emma nodded, and then reached up to hug him tightly.

            By the time Killian stepped outside into the chilly morning air, Emma had already begun dialing.

            Where should he go?  Where should he look?  Assuming the lass had left of her own volition, where would she go?  For a moment, Killian let his fear and panic take over.  Eva was missing!  If he lost his sweet baby…the thought did not even bear considering.  Finally, Killian took a deep breath.  He knew he would be of little use to Eva if he let the fear control him.

            Killian headed toward downtown Storybrooke.  It was as good a place to start the search as any.  He’d barely walked a block before his talking phone began to ring.  He pulled it out, praying it was Swan telling him his daughter had been located.  His heart sank when he realized it was an unfamiliar number.

            “Aye?” he bit out.

            “Killian?” came the female voice at the other end.  He couldn’t place it.

            “Aye?” he repeated.

            “It’s Ruby at the diner.  I tried Emma, but the line was busy.”

            “I’m afraid we’ve no time to talk this morning, Ruby.  Eva’s missing.  Her mother and I are rather beside ourselves searching for her.”

            “That’s why I’m calling!” Ruby cut in quickly.  “Eva’s here!  I saw her walking down the street when I got to the diner to open up.”

            Relief washed over him in waves, and he closed his eyes with the emotion.  “My lass is there?  With you?”

            “Yeah,” Ruby answered.  “Listen, Killian.  She says she’s running away.  I stalled her with some hot cocoa.  I hope that’s alright.”

            “Of course.  I’ll be there in but a moment.  Keep her there until I arrive.”

            “Will do.”

            It was four blocks from the house to Granny’s.  The lass had walked all that way?  Killian pressed the Emma button and listened as it went straight to voicemail.  He disconnected and shot a quick text to his wife to still her worry, and then he took off at a run toward the diner.

            The bell rang with a vengeance as he threw open the door, breathing heavily after his head-long run.  A quick scan of the near-empty eating establishment revealed a small blonde in a booth, her legs swinging contentedly as she sipped at her beverage.  Tears scalded the back of Killian’s eyes, and he rushed forward, falling to his knees and taking his sweet lass into his arms.

            “Eva!  Eva, little love!  I was scared well-nigh to death!”

            “Papa,” Eva said, patting her father on the back.  “What are you doing here?”

            “Looking for you, my lamb,” he said thickly.  “When your mother and I found you gone this morning we were frantic.  Why did you do it?  Why would you scare us like that?”

            A frown formed on her tiny brow.  “I’m running away Papa.”

            “Whatever for, little love?”

            Her lip trembled and tears came into her eyes.   “You and Mama don’t love me anymore.”

            Killian took Eva onto his lap and held her, rocking her gently back and forth as she started to cry.  For long moments he merely held her, stroking her hair, whispering wordless sounds of comfort.  At last the worst of her five-year-old grief was passed.  He dried her wet cheeks and tipped her face up to look at him.

            “Eva, love, why would you think such a thing?  Your mother and I love you to distraction, don’t ever doubt that.”

            Eva shook her head, her messy blonde curls bouncing with the motion.  “Not anymore!  You used to love me, but you have a new son and daughter and you don’t need me anymore.  Neal told me you would stop loving me, and he was right!”

            So that was what this was about!  The lass was jealous of her new siblings.  He and Emma had worried about how Liam would take to the new young ones, but they’d never thought to be concerned about Eva.  She was so sunny and happy, it had never occurred to them that such a thing might occur.

            “Neal is a silly little boy, love,” Killian said hugging her tightly again.  “He is sadly misinformed on the matter.  Even were your mother and I to have ten children, we would never love you any less.”

            She pulled back and looked at him skeptically.  He’d seen that very look on her mother’s face back in the days before she’d accepted his love.  “No, Papa.  He’s right.  You don’t have time for anyone but the babies anymore.  You don’t do _anything_ with me since they were born.”

            Was she right?  Had they been neglecting her?  Perhaps so.  The twins had kept Emma and himself on their toes to such an extent that their older, more self-sufficient children likely suffered as a result.  Shame filled him.  What manner of a father _was_ he?

            “I’m sorry, little love, so very sorry,” he said.  “Your mum and I _never_ wished to neglect you.”

            How could he let her know how much he loved her? 

            “Have I ever told you about the day you were born?” he asked, running gentle fingers through her hair. 

She shook her head against his chest.

“It was a beautiful autumn day,” he began, “one of the greatest and most awe-inspiring day of my life.”

He let his mind wander back to that day five years before. He’d paced the delivery room, frantic with worry about the pain his Swan was suffering, crushed with guilt that he was, in part, to blame for this pain.  His Emma had screamed like a banshee with each contraction—language that would have made the most worst of his pirate crew blush. 

And then it had stopped. Eva had arrived, and Killian had been convinced his heart would burst with the love he felt.  How was such a depth of love even possible?

“The moment you were placed in my arms, Eva, my whole world changed. Never had I felt such a love.  I made a vow to you at that very moment, little love.  Do you know what a vow is?”

She shook her head again.

“It’s a promise; a sacred promise,” he said.

            Eva sat up.  “A pirate promise?”

            Killian smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the motion.  “Aye, a pirate promise.”

            “And pirates keep their promises,” she said solemnly.

            “Aye, that they do.  ‘Twould be bad form to go back on one’s word once given.”

            “What did you promise, Papa?”

            He smiled again and leaned forward to plant a kiss against the top of her silky head.  “I vowed that I would love and protect you until the day I die.  It’s a vow I’ve kept faithfully since you were born, and a vow I will never break.”

            “Even if a bad guys tries to make you?”

            “Even then, little love.  Nothing ever can, nothing ever will make me stop loving you.”

            Eva peered searchingly into his eyes, looking for the lie.  So much like her mum, this one was.  Finally she nodded and surged forward hugging him with the exuberance only a little child can show.

            “I love you, Papa!”

            “And I you, Eva.  No more talk of running away, aye?”

            “Aye,” she said.  “I didn’t really want to anyway.  I’d miss you and Mama and Neal and even the babies.”

            “And we’d all miss you to distraction.  I have an idea.  I’d a plan to go out on the _Golden Swan_ this weekend, and I’ll need a first mate.  Would you consider the job?  You’d be far preferable company to Mr. Smee.”

            “Really?” Eva asked, jumping up and down in her excitement.  “You’d take me out on your new ship?  The one even Mama hasn’t been on yet?”

            He ruffled her hair.  “Aye.  The very one.  Will you do it?”

            “YES!” she nearly shouted.

            Killian held out his hand with mock seriousness.  “We have an accord, my pirate lass.  I’ll expect you up and prepared to board at six bells on Saturday morning.  I don’t allow tardiness on my vessel.”

            She shook his hand gravely.  “Aye, aye, Captain!”

            Killian laughed, hugging her again, still giddy with his relief at finding his lost lass safe and sound.  “Henry’s returning from college for a visit this morning.  What say we purchase some breakfast and take it back to the house?  I know your mum is desperate to see you again, and has probably forgotten to eat.”

            “Aye, aye, Papa!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--I received a prompt to continue “The Girl that I Adore” and add a chapter about Eva as a little girl, and then another one about Eva as a teen just starting to date. The idea really captivated me, but with the holidays and everything, I wasn’t able to follow through until now.  
> \--I didn’t originally plan to have Emma and Killian have this many kids, but…naming issues kind of necessitated it. I wanted them to have twins, and I really wanted to name them Charles and Leia for obvious reasons….but I think everyone in the fandom is convinced their first son HAS to be named Liam. Therefore…4 children became a necessity.  
> \--I pulled some things in this story from my own experience. My mom gave birth to my little brother when I was five years old. I remember working on a Curious George puzzle with her on the day my brother was born and being really annoyed because she was distracted and wasn’t paying any attention to me. Of course, now, I realize that was due to the fact that she was in the early stages of labor! Also, I have a cousin 2 years older than me, and I can remember being in awe of him when he was 7 years old because he could read! Yes, I was a little nerdy bookworm even then!  
> \--Up next: Fifteen-year-old Eva has been asked to the prom by Philip (Philip and Aurora’s son), the boy she’s had a crush on forever. While she is thrilled to death at the prospect, her father is a little less enthusiastic. Will Killian survive the teenage years and his daughter starting to date?


	3. Sharpening This Hook--pt. 1

            Emma took off her reading glasses, closed her eyes, and massaged the bridge of her nose.  Paperwork.  She _hated_ paperwork.  Why hadn’t anyone freaking warned her about it before she became sheriff?  Of course it had been nearly 20 years since she first got elected, so she should be used to it, but somehow she’d always been too busy with whatever scum of the earth villain was currently in town.  Paperwork always got tossed onto a messy stack on the corner of her desk to work on later.

            But they hadn’t had a new villain in what felt like forever.  They’d defeated the last one when the twins were six.  That was, what, four years ago?  How was it possible that the two of them were _10_ already?  Her babies were ten years old!  It seemed like just yesterday she and Killian were consuming ridiculous amounts of coffee trying to stay awake after sleepless nights caring for two newborns.  She must be getting old; time was rushing by faster than Leroy on his morning bacon run.

Regardless, the day of paperwork hell reckoning had come.

            Killian had offered to stay in the office and help her with it this afternoon, but she’d waved him off, telling him to go be deputy to her father for the day.  She smiled thinking of the boyish grin that had spread over his still-far-too-handsome face.  Her husband’s friendship with her father was nearly legendary.  She shuddered to think what kind of trouble the two of them were getting into while they were supposed to be keeping the streets of Storybrooke safe.

            With a deep sigh, Emma donned her glasses, ran a hand through her shoulder-length blonde hair and reached for the nearest stack.

            The door of the sheriff’s station slammed, and a moment later Eva bounced into view, all curly blonde hair and teenage exuberance.  Emma’s fifteen-year-old daughter shrugged off her backpack, tossed it to the floor and then threw herself into the chair across from Emma’s desk.

            Emma smiled and thrust the offending paperwork aside.  Looks like she was about to get another reprieve after all.

            “Hey kid!” she said.  “How was your day?”

            Eva heaved a dramatic sigh.  “Mom, this was the _worst, BEST_ day of my life!”

            Emma chuckled.  “So which was it, the worst or the best?”

            “Well, it started out like a nightmare, but then,” another long, ecstatic sigh, “ _heaven_!”

            “Okay,” Emma said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, “now I’m intrigued.  How about you start at the beginning?”

            “Well,” Eva said, unconsciously mirroring her mother’s posture, “it all started this morning on the way to school.  We were walking along, and Liam pulled my diary out of his backpack. _My diary_!”

            Emma frowned.  “Why did he have your diary?”             “How should I know?  He must have swiped it from my room last night when I wasn’t looking.”

            That kid was far too adept at larceny for his own good.  Of course, the fact that he was the son of a thief and a pirate didn’t help. 

            “I’m sorry, Eva.  I’ll make sure to give him the ‘leave other people’s property alone’ lecture later tonight.  I assume that was the bad part of the day?”

            Eva rolled her eyes.  “Unfortunately it got worse.  I, of course, snatched it back from him _immediately_ , but it turns out he’d made copies of some….um…embarrassing entries.  You see…there’s this boy I kind of like…”

            “Philip?” Emma asked with a grin. 

Eva sat up ramrod straight in her chair. “How did you know?  Have you been reading my diary too?!”

            “Relax kid, I gave up the thievery business a long time ago.  I just kind of…figured it out.”

            Wasn’t real hard when the kid had a habit of breathing on the window pain and writing “Eva + Philip” surrounded by a heart every time she was _supposed_ to be doing the dishes.

            “Was I that obvious?”  Eva couldn’t have worn a more horrified look if Emma had threatened to shave her head and dance naked in the middle of Granny’s.

            “Only to those who know you,” Emma reassured.  “So, my little kleptomaniac of a thirteen-year-old not only stole your diary, but he made copies of entries where you gushed about Philip?”

            “Yeah,” Eva said, “but that wasn’t even the _worst_ part!  You know how we always walk to school with Philip and Briar Rose?  Liam _gave one of the copies to Philip_!”

            Emma winced.  “Ouch!”

            Eva nodded.  “Yeah.  Ouch.  I thought my life was over.  I just wanted the pavement to open up and swallow me whole.”

            “So, how’d Philip react?”

            Eva shrugged.  “He got kind of red and embarrassed, and then hurried off to his first class.  I wanted to die.”

            “But you said this later turned into your best day ever.  How did that happen?”

            “You know the junior prom is in a couple of weeks?”

            Emma nodded.

            “Well, at lunch, Philip came up to me and asked if he could talk to me _alone_!”

            Emma grinned, having a good idea know how this story was going to end.  “I take it he got over his embarrassment?”

            “Yeah,” Eva sighed rapturously yet again.  “He told me he had feelings for me too, but that he hadn’t wanted to say anything since, you know, we’ve all been friends pretty much all our lives.  He thought it might make things weird.  Anyway, after he read my diary entry, he, _obviously_ knew I felt the same way about him, so he decided to let me know how he feels!”

            Emma took Eva’s hand and squeezed it affectionately.  “So, kid, something tells me he decided to ask you a question.”

            Eva grinned.  “Yeah.  Mom, Phillip asked me to prom. _Philip_.”

            “And I assume you said yes?”

            “Duh!”  Eva leaned forward, “Mom, I think I’m in love. _I mean REALLY in love_.  You know like ‘true love’.  Like Grandma and Grandpa or like you and Papa.  Philip is just so….so…Mom he’s _perfect._ ”

            Emma coughed trying valiantly to disguise her laugh.  Had she ever been this dramatic and _happy_?  Suddenly Emma’s face fell as she thought of herself at fifteen. _No_.  No, she’d never been that happy.  She’d never had a mother to confide in.  She’d never been popular; she was always the new kid, the odd one out, the angry, stand-offish kid who actively shut people out.  By the time the junior prom came along, she’d already long since dropped out of school and started making her way alone on the streets.

            Thank God she and Killian’s kids would never know that kind of trauma.

            Emma folded her oldest daughter in her arms.  “I’m happy for you, Eva.  I really am.  I hope prom is everything you hope it will be.”

            Eva returned the hug exuberantly, and then stepped back, a troubled look on her face.  “So you’ll let me go?”

            “Yeah, kid, of course.  Why do you ask?”

            “A couple weeks ago I asked Papa when I was allowed to date, and he got all stern and everything and then told me to come back to him when I was thirty-five and then we could talk about the matter.”

            That sounded like Killian.

            “Don’t worry about your dad.  I can handle him.”

 

E+P+E+P+E+P+E+P

 

            “Pass the potatoes, lad,” Killian said, gesturing to his younger son with his prosthetic.

            Charles complied, and then went back to his own dinner with gusto.  Killian glanced around the kitchen table and watched as the rest of his family did the same.  This lot was normally exuberant and _loud_ , but dinnertime always brought blessed peace and silence.

            “Killian, this chicken is delicious,” Emma murmured around a mouthful.  “Is this a new recipe?”

            “Aye love,” he nodded.  “This one was wheedled out of Granny with much difficulty.”

            “Well, whatever you had to do to get the recipe, it was definitely worth it.”

            Killian grunted and then took a bite of steamed asparagus.  He and Swan shared the household tasks equally, but somehow around the third year of marriage, he had been designated the Jones family chef.  To his surprise, he found he rather enjoyed the undertaking.

            Killian and Emma had decided early on in their marriage that family dinner would be an important—and daily—occurrence in the Jones family.  As the children grew and became increasingly involved in extra-curricular activities, it became ever more difficult to continue the tradition, but Killian was committed to it.  Truth be told; this was his favorite time of day.  Who would have thought the dreaded Captain Hook would ever become so domesticated?

            “So, cygnets, what new adventures did your day bring?”

            Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emma smile affectionately.  He’d begun the dinner conversation with the very same question each evening for years.

            “Charles got in a fight today,” Leia volunteered enthusiastically, and then promptly slapped a hand over her mouth.

            “What?!” Emma asked.

            “Leia!” Charles bellowed.  “You said you’d keep that secret!”

            Liam snorted.  “That was your first mistake, Charles.  Everybody knows Leia can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

            Leia shot her older brother an outraged look, her near-black hair bouncing with the sharpness of the motion.  It was true enough.  Leia was more or less her grandmother in miniature.  She’d inherited Snow’s dark hair, green eyes, optimistic disposition….and utter inability to keep a secret for more than few minutes at a time.

            “With whom did you spar, lad, and what was the nature of your dispute?”  Killian attempted to infuse stern disapproval in his tone, but feared he failed utterly.

            “Chip,” Charles said with a sneer.  “Chip Stiltskin.”

            Trust the Crocodile’s hatchling to be at the forefront of a dispute.  The apple clearly didn’t fall far from the tree where that family was concerned.

            “Yeah,” Leia agreed.  “Chip said his papa told him that our papa was a despicable, incompetent bully.  I don’t even know what all those words mean, but it sounds bad.”

            “And so you chose to defend my honor, did you lad?”

            “Well, yeah,” Charles said, ducking his sandy-colored head in embarrassment.  “I’m not going to let anyone say bad things about my family!”

            “Well done, Charles!” Killian said, clapping him on the shoulder.

            “Killian!” Emma bellowed.  “Don’t encourage our children to fight!”

            “I don’t advocate they start fights love,” Killian said, refusing to back down, “but I’ve no intention of berating a child of mine for standing up for the honor of his family when it is maligned.”

            “Good form and all that?”  Emma asked sarcastically. 

            “Quite so, darling.”

            Emma turned toward Charles.  “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

            “No,” Charles said.  “Fight didn’t last long.  Soon as he realized I was going to fight him for real, he ran away.”

            “’Twould seem cowardice runs in the family.”

            Killian and the Crocodile had finally come to a kind of grudging truce following Rumple’s rather ignominious return to Storybrooke accompanied by the so-called Queens of Darknesss.  When the trio of rather nasty ladies had turned on Rumple, he’d finally hit rock bottom and decided to mend the error of his ways.  He’d reconciled with Belle, and Chip was, as it were, the fruit of that reconciliation.

            Killian may no longer be seeking revenge against his erstwhile enemy, but one thing was abundantly clear.  There would never be any love lost between the two of them.  Should a child of his stand up to the Crocodile’s spawn, Killian had every intention of cheering him on.

            “So, it seems the twins had quite the exciting day,” Killian said.  “How about you, Liam?  How was school?”

            Liam made a face.  “I have to write a five page paper by next Friday.”

            “Aye?  Upon what topic?”

            “History.  Whatever topic I want.”

            “You ought to ask your dad to help you with that one,” Emma said with a smirk.  “Since he’s like a million, he can probably give you first-hand info on any historical period you can think of.”

            Killian grinned good-humoredly.  “Aye, true enough.  Then again, should you ever need to gather information on monkeys, your mum would be the one to ask.  She did, after all nearly marry one.”

            At the other end of the table, Eva grinned and rolled her eyes playfully.  The age and monkey jokes were a common occurrence between the Joneses.

            “Alexandra and I plan to go shopping tomorrow,” Eva announced after a moment.  She waved her hand and a small swatch of robin’s-egg blue fabric appeared.  All of the children had inherited Swan’s magic to some degree, as the second-generation products of true love, but Eva’s was particularly strong and intuitive.  “I want my dress to be this color.   Alexandra says it will bring out my eyes and go well with my blonde hair.”

            “Yeah,” Emma said, examining the fabric, “that’s a good choice.”

            “You plan to purchase a new dress, little love?” Killian asked absently, spearing a bite of chicken.

            “Duh!” she said with a roll of her blue eyes.  “You _have_ to get a new dress for the prom!”

            Killian froze, fork raised midway between plate and mouth.  “I beg your pardon?  For what do you need a new dress?”

            “For the junior prom!  Philip asked me this afternoon.  Didn’t Mom tell you about it?”

            Killian shot an outraged look in his wife’s direction.  “No.  It would seem that little detail slipped her mind.”

            Emma had the good grace to look chagrined.  “Sorry, Eva, I guess I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”

            Prom!?  His little lass was planning to go to _prom_.  As the date of a young man—a young man whose hormones were likely raging out of control?  No!  He wouldn’t stand for it!  She was naught but a little lass, yet!

            Killian got swiftly to his feet.  “Emma, may I have a word?  Alone?”

            Emma rolled her eyes, but stood as well.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Swan place a reassuring hand on Eva’s shoulder as she moved past.  The lass looked devastated, and Killian felt a pang of remorse.  Ruthlessly shoving it aside, Killian turned on his heel and strode purposely toward the bedroom he shared with Emma.

            As soon as the door was closed behind them, Emma took a seat on the bed and calmly crossed her legs.  Far too agitated for such a sedentary posture, Killian began pacing, murmuring irritably to himself, as visions of a pimple-bespeckled lad attempted to do filthy things to his little girl.

            Finally, Killian planted his feet, and turned toward his wife.  “Swan, she’s naught but a lass, a young, impressionable lass!”

            “Killian,” she said calmly.  “She’s fifteen years old.  It’s only natural that she has a crush on a boy.  It’s only natural that she’d be ecstatic beyond all belief that the boy she’s had a thing for ‘forever’ would ask her to the junior prom.”

            “Aye!” he fumed, “and that is another thing, love!  Our daughter only just began attending Storybrooke High School.  It should be a good two years before the bloody school allows her to attend a _junior_ prom.”

            Emma shrugged in evident unconcern.  What was _wrong_ with the woman?  How did she fail to see how serious this was?

            “Eva couldn’t have chosen to go herself,” Emma answered, “but the school doesn’t have a problem with it if a junior asks a younger student to go as their date.”

            Killian began pacing again, itching to dig out the hook he hadn’t worn in years and bury it in something, particularly something that would cause the junior in question a significant amount of pain.  “Emma, love, have you any idea how seventeen-year-old lads _think_?  Their minds are as filthy and putrid as the Crocodile’s black heart!”

            Emma chuckled.  She actually chuckled!  “Killian, when you were seventeen you were as prim, proper and straight-laced as a nun.”

            He fixed her with a glare that should have frozen her to the marrow of her bones.  “I may have behaved with outward decorum, but I can assure you, darling, when faced with the temptation of a lovely lass, my mind ventured in directions not lawful to be spoken in polite society.”

            “But that’s the point, isn’t it?” Emma said with a little wave of her hand.  “It’s not about the knee-jerk hormonal response, it’s about what a person _does_ with it.  Killian, we’ve known Philip since he was born.  He’s a good kid.  Aurora and Philip raised him right.  Even if he has thoughts that ‘venture in directions not lawful to be spoken in polite society’, he’s not going to act on them.  He’ll respect Eva and treat her right.”

            “Perhaps, but I’m disinclined to take the chance that, emotions running amok, one thing might lead to another…”

            “If you don’t believe in him, at least have faith in our daughter,” Emma said calmly.  “She’s a good kid.  We’ve raised her to respect herself, to wait until she’s _truly_ ready.  Besides, in her eyes you hang the moon and stars.  No way she’s going to do something that’s going to disappoint you.”

            Killian took a deep breath and released it slowly.  “I don’t wish to see her hurt.  I don’t wish to stand by and watch her tender heart be shattered.  I’d give my remaining hand to keep that from happening. I swore an oath the day she was born to protect her, with my life if need be.  Don’t ask me to approve of this, please, love!”

            Emma patted the mattress beside her, and Killian was surprised to see tears in her eyes.  It was the tears more than anything that led him to perch next to her on the bed.  As soon as he was seated, Emma leaned forward, framed his face with her soft hands, and kissed him gently.

            “I love you,” she murmured, before wrapping her arms around him.  He returned the embrace, burying his face in her silky, fragrant hair.

            “And I you, my love, until the end of time, as always.”

            When Killian pulled back, he watched as a solitary tear escaped its banks and rolled down Emma’s cheek.  He caught it with a gentle thumb.  “What’s the matter, love?  Have I said something to distress you?”

            She shook her head vehemently, and then raised a hand to caress the scar on his cheekbone.  “I was just thinking about how lucky Eva is to have a dad that loves her so much.  If I’d had one when I was her age…who knows how different my life would have been?”

            “Emma, you and the children are my life, you know that.  I can’t merely stand by while one is in danger of pain and suffering.”

            “But that’s just the thing,” she said, looking into his eyes.  “She’s growing up; they all are.  We can’t protect them from everything.  At some point we have to let our little birds test their wings and take a quick trip from the nest.  Heartbreak is a natural part of life.  If it turns out Philip isn’t the big true love of our daughter’s life like she thinks he is, it’ll hurt, but she’ll survive—and we’ll be here to help her  put the pieces back together.”

            Killian sighed.  “It was so much easier when she was a wee one.”

            “Yeah,” Emma said on a chuckle.  “Who would have thought we’d long for the days our babies woke us up every freaking five minutes?”

            “Emma, are we going to survive the angst-ridden teenage years?”

            “Yeah, we’ll survive—like we survive everything; together.”

            Killian leaned forward and kissed her gently, letting his lips caress hers for long moments as his hand found purchase in her hair.

            “So you’re done with the whole ‘over-protective father who won’t let his daughter date until she’s like forty’ bit?”

            “I suppose,” he answered wryly.  “For this evening, at least.”

            “Good,” Emma grinned.  “So, we’ve got an overwrought teenager in the kitchen.  How about we go tell her she can go to the prom with the ‘love of her life’ so that she can stop worrying that you’re going to lock her away in some tower and fit her for a chastity belt?”

            Killian sighed, but got to his feet and offered a hand up to Emma.  “I suppose that would be best.  Lead on, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> \--This chapter rather got away from me! More than 3000 words, and I haven’t even gotten to prom night yet! I decided it would be best to break this thing up into two chapters.  
> \--Up next: The big day has arrived. Killian may have reluctantly agreed to allow Eva to attend the prom as Philip’s date, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to forego the chance to put the fear of God into the “pimple-bespeckled lad’s” heart. Let’s just hope he doesn’t embarrass Eva to death in the process!


	4. Sharpening this Hook--pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the rating change from G to T. Don’t worry! The rating change is not due to the fact Killian does Philip ACTUAL (physical) harm. Let’s just say Emma comes up with a way to distract Killian from the fact that his daughter is at the prom with a “pimple bespeckled lad”…and said method moves a little beyond T territory. Let’s also say shirtless Colin as shown in The Words music video was a little too delicious to pass up….

“Leave the bottle, would you mate?”

            David looked over at Killian.  Only 12:30 in the afternoon, and the man was already asking the barkeep to leave the rum bottle.  He’d misjudged the situation.  He’d thought his son-in-law was agitated, but this…well, this was nothing short of completely overwrought.

            “Bit early to start the heavy drinking, don’t you think, _mate_?”

            Killian glared at him.  “You’re the one who suggested we adjourn to the Rabbit Hole.  What did you think we would be imbibing here, milk?”

            Point taken.

Killian had arrived at the Charmings’ flat promptly at 11:00 this morning, both sons in tow.  The Jones boys had been summarily banished from their own home, in which the female members of the family were engaged in the time honored—and deadly serious—task of preparing for the prom.  Liam and Charles were to spend the night with him and Snow, so as to minimize the possible embarrassment they might cause Eva—either before the dance, when Philip came to pick her up, or when she got home.

            David had taken one look at Killian when he opened the apartment door, turned toward Snow, and told her they would be heading out for a while.  There was no question his friend needed a little liquid fortification.

            “I find, Dave” Killian said after a long pull directly from the bottle, “that I owe you a profound apology.”

            David furrowed his brow.  “What for?”

            “Neverland.”

            _Okay…._   “Pretty sure you aren’t to blame for the dreamshade or psychotic teenagers we had to deal with there.”

            “Not that,” Killian said.  “You saw my interest in Emma, and you knew precisely who I’d been; who I was.”

            “Well, yeah…” David said, wondering exactly where this was going.

            “You warned me away from your daughter, believing my intentions were nothing but…er…carnal, and I mocked and bated you.  Rather bad form that.”

            David laughed.  “I may not have had the opportunity to do much fathering in Emma’s early years, but no way was I going to stand by and watch someone who was ‘nothing but a pirate’ break my little girl’s heart.”

            “I loved her even then,” Killian said reflectively.  David could tell he was recalling those early days in his relationship.  “I hadn’t yet realized it, but already then I would have given my very life for her.”

            David clapped a comforting hand on his best friend’s shoulder.  “I know.  Didn’t take long for me to realize just how serious you were.  It’s why you never got more than a half-hearted ‘I think it’s time we talk about your intentions with my daughter’ after that.  All is forgiven where Neverland is concerned; no point in beating yourself up over ancient history.”

            Killian gave him a long, tortured look, and then took another sip from the bottle.  “I didn’t understand then; had no idea…the protective instincts having a daughter brings out in a man.”

            Ah, so that’s what this was about.  David should have known, this being prom day and everything.

            “You’re worried about Eva?”

            “Aye.”

            David merely waited until Killian continued.  “It’s a paradox, Dave.  On the one hand, my little lass has been walking on air since the young swain invited her to the dance.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy.”

            “And on the other,” David said with a grin, “you want to tear said swain’s heart out with your bare hands for so much as looking at your princess.”

            “Just so,” Killian said with a nod. “How, precisely did you survive it?”

            “Being the father of a beautiful daughter is not for the faint of heart.”

            Killian grunted moodily.

            “Can I offer you a piece of advice?” David asked.

            “Of course, mate,” Killian answered.  “That is precisely why I raised the bloody topic.”

            “Take your protective instincts and use them to your advantage,” David suggested.  “You may not be able to stop your little girl from growing up and catching the eye of every boy within a twenty mile radius, but you can let said young men know in no uncertain terms that you love your daughter more than life and that you won’t take kindly to them treating her with anything less than absolute respect.”

            Killian grinned, and David could see the wheels turning in his head.  “That, mate is one of the most brilliant ideas you’ve ever devised.”

            “Brilliant ideas,” David said with a grin.  “That’s what fathers-in-law are for.”

 

E+P+E+P+E+P+E+P+E+P+E

 

            “Seriously?”

            Killian looked up and caught his wife’s eyes in the bathroom mirror.  He grinned and went back to the task at hand—meticulously applying the last layer of guyliner.

            “Aye, love?  Did you wish to say something?”

            Emma stepped to his side, and put an arm around his waist.  “You’re seriously planning to look like THAT when your daughter’s date gets here?”

            Killian looked at himself critically.  Aye, there were hints of gray at his temples, and the lines around his eyes had expanded and deepened, but he was no less able to cut a dashing—and, most important of all, tonight, _dangerous_ —figure.  “Have you a problem with my appearance, Swan?”

            “You’ve got to admit you’re laying the whole ‘dangerous Captain Hook’ thing on a little thick tonight.”

            True enough.  He’d dusted off his old pirate attire for the night—leather pants, blousy black shirt, red vest, leather great coat, sword and scabbard slung low on his hips.  He was inordinately pleased to find he’d retained his trim figure to a large enough extent the clothing still fit.  There was but one element missing.  “Speaking of which, darling, might you know where my hook is currently residing?”

            Emma laughed.  “I reiterate: Seriously?  Don’t tell me you’re planning an encore performance of ‘ridiculously over-protective dad’ tonight of all nights!  You do, realize Eva will _kill_ you?”

            Killian deliberately mussed his hair with his good hand.  “She may be…less than pleased…tonight, but one day she shall profoundly thank me.”

            “Wouldn’t count on that.”

            “Come now, Swan, I merely wish to converse with the lad; allow him to see just how much I love my daughter.”

            “And scare the living hell out of him,” she said with a smirk.

            “I’m an intimidating man; if the young Romeo should become alarmed in the process of our conversation, I’m hardly to blame.”

            Emma stepped out into the bedroom, rummaged around in their walk-in closet, and reemerged with the attachment that had been eponymous to him for so many years.

            “Eva’s nearly ready; you’ll have like thirty seconds once Philip shows up to put the fear of God into him before your daughter puts a stop to it.”

            Killian had given the matter some thought.  “Stall her, would you love?” he asked, fluffing her hair with his hook.  “Insist you must touch up her make-up or launch into a long speech about how your little girl is growing up or, once again, give her the talk about (what did you euphemistically call it?) the ‘birds and the bees’.  I care not how you accomplish it, but I desperately need ten minutes.”

            Emma rolled her eyes, but reached up to peck him on the cheek.  “Fine, you’ve got ten minutes, captain, but no bloodshed.  That’s a new couch, and you have no _idea_ what a pain in the ass it is to try to clean blood stains out of suede.”

            “You have my word of honor.”

            A moment later the doorbell pealed through the house.  “Looks like you’re up, pirate,” Emma said, already stepping across to the room where Eva was primping.

            Killian casually made his way to the door, careful to position himself so that his hook was prominently displayed when the lad got his first glimpse of him.

            “Ah! Philip lad,” Killian said cordially, taking note of the young man’s tuxedo and corsage of forget-me-nots, perfectly chosen to complement Eva’s dress.

            “Hi, Captain Jones,” Philip began with a friendly smile.  “I’m here to pick up Eva.”

            Killian noticed the exact moment the lad became aware of his rather unusual attire.  His blue eyes, so much like his mother’s, became huge, and his adam’s apple bobbed with his sudden quick swallow.

            “Come in, come in,” Killian said amiably, gesturing with the hook.  “Eva’s not quite ready.  You know how it is with women.”

            “Ye…” Philip’s voice had risen an octave.  He cleared it, and started again.  “Yes, sir.”

            Killian gestured to the sofa, and then took his own place in the easy chair.  Taking up his file, he began meticulously sharpening away at his hook.  Philip dropped to the sofa as though his legs no longer wished to support him.

            Killian chuckled, being sure to make the effect far from benign.  “’Sir’ is far too formal, lad,” he said, blowing dust from his hook.  “Captain is fine.”

            “O…okay, Captain.”

            “I’m rarely ever addressed as such anymore,” Killian continued.  “Ah, those were the days.  There was nothing like the freedom and adventure of being Captain Hook, terror of the high seas.”

            “I…I’d imagine there wasn’t.”

            “Did you know lad I once took on ten heavily-armed men, well, single-handedly?” Killian gestured between them with his hook.  “Truly a marvel, this hook is.  When filed to a fine enough point, it has the power to cleave a man entirely in two.”

            “Really?”  Killian would wager that was a two octave jump this time.

            “Undoubtedly.   Pirates’ honor.”  Without warning, Killian sliced through the air, thoroughly impaling an apple in the fruit bowl.  The lad jumped.  Eloquently ignoring him, Killian brought the fruit to his mouth and took a healthy bite.

            “My apologies, lad.  Where are my manners?  Would you like some refreshments?”

            Philip shook his head.  “No thank you, sir, I mean Captain.”

            Killian shrugged.  “So, Philip, you fancy my daughter do you?”

            “Yes, Captain,” Philip said.

            “Quite the young lady, my Eva.  As spirited as she is beautiful.”

            “Yes, yes she is.”

            Killian went back to filing his hook.  “Never shall I forget the moment I first held her in the hospital.  I knew right then that there was nothing I wouldn’t do for that little lass.  No lengths I wouldn’t go to protect her.”

            Philip swallowed.  Hard.

            “Aye,” Killian continued.  “She and her siblings are my whole world.  Her mother’s as well.  Should anything _or anyone_ harm her…”

            Killian laughed humorously.  “Well, let us just say there are reasons I’m careful not to allow my hook to become dull.  As deputy of this town, I’ve long since renounced my villainous ways, but there are exceptions to every rule.”

            “I…I’ll be sure no harm comes to her tonight,” Philip vowed.

            Killian clapped him companionably on the shoulder.  Philip’s eyes widened, in what Killian was pleased to see looked very much like terror.  “Of course you will, my lad!  I have every confidence you’ll treat my cygnet with the utmost honor and respect.”

            “Yes!” he squeaked.  “Yes, I will.”

            “Good,” Killian said with a nod.  “I’m sure she’ll be ready in mere moments.  Have a marvelous time tonight; I’ll see you when you return.”

            Killian eyed his hook carefully.  “Chances are good I’ll still be awake when you return—sharpening this hook, you know.  I’ve let it go for far too long.”

 

E+P+E+P+E+P+E+P+E

 

            Emma let the movie credits run to the very end, reluctant to move.  It was far too comfortable here on the couch, snuggled against Killian’s chest, his hand caressing her arm as he placed a soft kiss against her hair.

            It had ended up as a date night of sorts.  With Eva at the prom, the boys spending the night with her parents, and Leia at Regina’s for a sleep-over with Lydia, they had the house to themselves.  Normally, Killian would have been delighted—and the innuendos would have started as soon as the door closed behind Leia and the Hoods.  Tonight, however, he was far too busy freaking out about Eva’s first date.

            As they sat on the couch trying to decide what to do with their suddenly empty house, Killian’s fears had come to the fore, ranging from the ridiculous (“Swan, what if there’s an earthquake and the entirety of Storybrooke High is swallowed up?”) to the even more ridiculous (“Emma, suppose a new villain comes to town and spikes the punch with a potion that will turn Storybrooke’s teenagers into heartless killers that the villain uses to destroy the town?”) to the more mundane (“Darling, Eva looked lovely and so grown up tonight.  I know Philip is a good lad, but can we truly rule out the possibility his baser instincts will prevail in light of her beauty?”)

            “Killian,” she’d reassured for the five hundred sixty-seventh time, “ _nothing_ is going to happen.  Philip’s not going to take advantage of her.  Even if he wanted to, my mom and all seven of the dwarfs are chaperoning the prom.  You really think they’re going to let him do _anything_?”

            Emma figured they had a good twelve years before the last of the kids were through college and on their own.  If she had to put up with this during every one of their kids’ date nights during those twelve years, she was going to go crazy.  Maybe she should talk to Regina about how to get her hands on another sleeping curse. 

            To Killian’s credit, he finally forced himself to relax, and at the very least keep his fears to himself.  They’d ordered in pizza and then decided on a newly released romantic comedy on Netflix.  Emma wasn’t really the romantic comedy type, but this one had come highly recommended.  She’d enjoyed the movie, but even more, she’d enjoyed being held in her husband’s arms.  With four kids and two busy lives, it seemed they never had time to just be alone together anymore.

            Finally, Emma sat up, turned off the TV and hit the lights.  Killian looked anxiously at the clock.  _Just past midnight_.

            “Shouldn’t the lass be home by now?”  He asked.

            “The prom went till midnight and then the school was sponsoring an after party.  We’ve got time yet before we need to send out a search party.”

            “Aye, I suppose,” Killian murmured noncommittally.

            Emma rolled her eyes, realizing it was time to find something else to distract her husband before he decided to do something stupid like go down to the school, hide behind the bushes and spy on the teenaged love birds.  Well, there was one line of distraction that had never yet failed to capture his attention.

            “I can think of something we can do to pass the time until Eva returns,” Emma whispered, framing his face with her hands.

            Killian’s face lit up, and his lips curved up into a grin that started the butterflies dancing in her stomach.  “If your thoughts are running in the direction I think they are, I highly approve.”

            In answer, Emma leaned forward and kissed him. Thoroughly.  The fire was intense and immediate.  It was kind of ridiculous, really.  They’d been married for 17 years, and yet every kiss, every touch was still as explosive as the first on Neverland.

            Emma cupped the back of Killian’s head and angled her head, trying to get closer.  He moaned, responding instantly, hand and hook roaming.  “Emma, love, perhaps we’d best move this to the bed chamber.”

            In response she straddled him and went to work on the buttons on his vest.  “No.  I can’t wait that long.”

            He kissed her again, hand fisting in her hair, and then reluctantly pulled back.  “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, my love; we’re no longer as young as we used to be and this couch is not the most conducive surface for this kind of activity.”

            Emma pulled his shirt free from the waistband of his trousers and then up over his head.  “Killian, just shut up and love me.”

            He growled in response, hand disappearing beneath the hem of her own tank top.  Emma leaned forward, nails raking through the hair peppering his chest; mouth taking his, pillaging and plundering like the pirate lass he’d turned her into.

            This was heaven.

            And then it stopped. 

Killian sat up, ran a hand through his hair, and shot her a startled look.  “Swan, your mother and the dwarfs are chaperoning the prom, aye, but Eva and the lad will be utterly alone during the drive to and from the venue!”

            Emma climbed from his lap, adjusted her clothing, and threw up her hands in defeat.  “Killian, I give up; there’s no hope for you.”

            A minute later, headlights cut through the darkness of the living room, and Emma heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway.  Beside her, Killian exhaled in obvious relief as he pulled his shirt back on.

            “She’s back, our little lass made it back,” he murmured under his breath.

            “Yeah, right on time too,” Emma pointed out with a smirk. “Looks like we survived our daughter’s first date.”

            “Barely,” Killian breathed, as Emma reached over him to turn on the table lamp.  He snagged her on her way back to her seat, and pulled her mouth down for one more quick kiss.  “Thank you for bearing with me through this ordeal, my love.”

            Emma caressed his face and looked down at him affectionately.  “Well, I’m your wife; it’s kind of in the job description.”

            The door opened and then softly closed.  Emma looked up in amusement to see Eva collapse against the door, her face turned up, her eyes closed in what looked like ecstasy.  Come to think of it, that was eerily similar to the expression she’d worn following her own first date with Killian.

            “Have a nice night, little love?” Killian asked.

            Eva jumped and turned in their direction.  “Mom, Dad.  You’re still up!”

            “Yeah, kid,” Emma said with a grin, “that’s what parents do.  So, how was it?”

            Eva toed her heels off and rushed forward into Emma’s arms.  Emma closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her little girl.

            “It was the _best, most amazing, most awesome_ night of my _entire life_.” Eva gushed, pulling back from the hug to look back and forth between both parents.  “It was _magical_.  Like a fairy tale, and I know that sounds cliché given where we live and everything, but it really was.  It was like a _fairy tale’s fairy tale_.  And then when Philip kissed me goodnight…”

            Emma felt Killian tense beside her, and she squeezed his hand bracingly.

            “…I swear heaven opened and the angels started singing!”

            “Sounds most enjoyable, lass,” Killian said thickly.

            “Absolutely!” Eva said, turning more fully toward her father.  “And don’t worry dad!  _Nothing_ happened.  Philip was a total gentleman.”

            “As well, he should be,” Killian said firmly.

            “It was almost kind of annoying at first.  He seemed afraid to get within three feet of me,” she said.  “I don’t know what you said to him before I came down, but I think he’s scarred for life.”

            “I merely let him know that I love you more than life and would be most displeased if any harm were to befall you.”

            “Well, he took it to heart.   We were three songs in before he’d even agree to dance with me, but after the ice was broken, we were inseparable.”

            Killian frowned.  “I trust not _too_ inseparable.”

            Eva rolled her eyes.  “I told you, Dad, he was a total gentleman.  Not just because of whatever you said to him, either.  That’s just how he is.”

            Emma caressed her daughter’s arm.  “I’m glad you found a boy like that, Eva.”

            “Yeah, me too.”  Eva said. 

            Suddenly she yawned, and Emma got to her feat, guiding her toward the stairs.  “Time for bed, kiddo.  You’ve had a big day.”

            Eva let herself be led for a few steps, and then abruptly turned back and threw herself into Killian’s arms.  “I love you, Papa.”

            Emma felt the tears burn the back of her eyes at the tender expression on Killian’s face.  “And I you, little love.”

            “I know how worried you were,” Eva continued, “and I kind of rolled my eyes about it and everything, but…I don’t know, it kind of feels good to know there’s someone around who cares enough to worry.”

            Killian tightened his arms around her.  “You need not fear.  I shall care for you until my last breath, my lamb.”

            Emma’s heart turned over, and her breath hitched.  This was right; this was perfect; this was _family._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> \--This chapter was inspired by (and largely based on) the Rodney Atkin’s song “Cleaning This Gun.” Basically, it tells the story of a man who vividly remembers a certain speech from high school—that given to him by his girlfriend’s father when he picked her up for a date. The lyrics of the chorus are as follows: “Come on in, boy. Sit on down and tell me ‘bout yourself. So you like my daughter, do you now? Yeah, we think she’s something else. She’s her daddy’s girl, her mama’s world. She deserves respect. That’s what she’ll get, now ain’t it son? See ya when ya get back, probably be up all night, just cleaning this gun.”  
> \--I did my best to make the names of the next generation meaningful throughout the story. Most of the names: Killian and Emma’s children, Chip Stiltskin and Briar Rose, are rather self-explanatory, I think. Unfortunately, when it came to Regina and Robin’s daughter, I found myself at a loss to come up with a meaningful girl’s name. Lydia, therefore, has no significance; I just like the name.  
> \--This is likely to be the final chapter of this story. I have a couple more ideas (well, I got a couple more prompts) about scenarios Killian and Eva could find themselves in, but I’m finding this story more difficult to write the farther into the future it gets. I guess we’ll just have to see if the muse returns.


	5. Prequel

_Prequel_

Emma woke slowly to the sound of her husband’s gentle mumblings.  She reached for him, only to be met with a bar on the bed….and an IV in her arm…and machines beeping.  What..? 

In a rush, it all came back to her.  Six hours before, she’d given birth to Eva Ruth Jones, the most astonishingly beautiful baby she’d ever seen…at least since she’d given birth to Henry.

Emma glanced to her left and smiled softly.  Killian sat in the ridiculously uncomfortable chair they’d set beside her bed, his tiny daughter cradled lovingly in his hooked arm.  Eva’s little hand held tightly to her father’s finger, connected to him even in her sleep.

It was the most beautiful sight Emma had ever seen.

She listened for a moment as Killian spoke of beanstalks and time travel and alternate realities and darkness defeated with true love’s kiss.  He was telling their daughter their story.

“And so, little love,” he crooned, “you need never fear.  Your papa’s a survivor and your mother is bloody brilliant.  Our love will stand the test of time and every obstacle thrown our way.  We are a family, my cygnet, and you need never fear to be left alone.”

Emma’s heart turned over, the tears rushing to the surface.

“No doubt your brother shall write the story of the pirate and the princess, my Eva,” Killian continued, “and your own story too.  Your brother Henry is a marvel, little love.  What will your story be, I wonder?  Shall you be brave and fiery and passionate like your mother?”

“Or,” Emma said, finally letting her family know she’d been eavesdropping, “will she be loving and honorable and courageous like her father?”

Killian looked up, smiling in delight.  “I do hope we haven’t woken you, love.”

“No, not at all.”  Emma scooted to a seated position, wincing at the soreness the move provoked.  “So what’s up?  She hungry?  Was she crying?”

Killian shook his head, looking down at the baby, running an impossibly gentle finger along her downy cheek.  “No, she slept soundly.”

“Well, she’s had a busy day,” Emma answered with a gentle smile.

“Aye.”  Killian looked up at her, a tender look in his eyes.  “I just needed to hold her, love.  I didn’t know; had no idea it would be like this.  I love her so deeply I can’t contain it.  I’m in awe at the miracle we’ve been given.  Such tiny, perfect fingers, such delicate features.  To think that it was our love, so overwhelming, so all encompassing, that created her.  It brings me to my knees.”

Emma allowed one tear to escape her eye and make its way down her cheek.  Killian looked up quickly, adoration changing to concern.

“Are you well, Emma?” he asked, reaching for the button at the side of her bed.  “Do you need me to call the nurse?”

She covered his hand with her own, stilling his movements.  “I’m fine, Killian.  It’s just..It’s just overwhelming you know?  I never thought I would get this.  Never thought I’d have my son back, and a husband and a baby girl.”

Killian stood slowly, careful not to disturb his sleeping daughter, then leaned over and gently kissed her.  “I know.  It’s the same for me.”

“The last time I did this…” she continued, glancing away for a second. “Killian, I was chained to my bed.  There was no one with me, save the cop who was there to make sure I wouldn’t run.  Like that was possible.  Not sure how many women make grand daring escapes in the middle of giving birth.  Far as I knew my baby’s daddy was the scum of the earth who’d just used me and thrown me away.”

She saw the pain he felt at what she’d gone through during Henry’s birth.  She squeezed his hand, wanting to comfort, wanting to reassure.  “But this time?  This time everything was different.  My family waited just outside, hardly able to contain their excitement.  My husband stood by my side, not even caring how many choice words I tossed out at him for being the cause of the pain I was feeling.  My baby girl was placed in my arms, and I knew she’d be the luckiest, most loved little girl in the world.”

“She’ll have us both forever, love,” Killian said quickly.  “And she’ll be the best of both of us.  The best of all of us.”

Emma reached up and cupped her husband’s cheek, letting her thumb draw tiny circles.  “Here, let me hold her for a while.”

Killian nodded, gently placed the baby in her arms and then took a tiny step back.  Emma leaned down and placed a kiss against Eva’s soft forehead just as she saw a sudden flash of light.  Looking up, she saw Killian with his “talking phone” in hand, having just snapped a photo.

“Killian!” she protested.  “What are you DOING?  I look like crap!”

Killian tapped a few buttons and then looked up at her with a mock scowl.  “Now, Swan, tread carefully.  That’s the mother of my daughter you’re talking about.  I’ll not suffer any to speak such calumny about her.”

Emma smiled, but then watched as he typed diligently at his phone again.  “Killian, just what are you doing with that picture?”

He nodded in satisfaction and then turned back to her.  “Not a thing in the world love.”

Emma groaned.  “Please tell me you didn’t post that!”

“Come now, Swan,” he said, sauntering over.  “Our friends deserved to know of our joy.”

She groaned again.  “Why?  Why in all the realms did I introduce you to social media?  At least show me what you posted.”

He obligingly slanted the phone in her direction and she read his caption: “Gazing upon the two most beautiful women in the world.  I love you more than words could say my Emma, my tiny, precious Eva.”

“Look, love,” he said, pointing toward the screen.  “Five minutes and I’ve already gotten fifty likes and thirty-five re-blogs.”

Eva stretched, emitted a soft gurgle and then settled back into sleep.  “You know, Killian, we probably should put her back in her bassinette.  The memories of Henry I had in the early days may have been ones Regina implanted, but they’re irrevocably burned into my mind.  Chances to sleep are going to be pretty few and far between for the next couple of months.  Better take advantage while we can.”

Killian took the baby back and held her close for a moment, before finally setting her down.  “Aye, I’m sure you’re right love.  I just find it difficult to be parted from her.”

“Oh don’t worry,” she said, settling back down on her pillow.  “Come next week when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs at two in the morning, she’s all yours.”

 

_Notes:_

_\--*sigh*  It’s been one of those days.  I sprained my ankle last night so I’m in pain.  I didn’t sleep well because I couldn’t find a position that didn’t press on the ankle, so I’m tired (and have a headache = more pain).  Result?  My mood is roughly as good as someone on prednisone while also PMSing.  So I decided some CS baby fluff was definitely in order.  (It was either write this or something evil—like Killian trying to get through to dark!Emma and her getting annoyed and tossing him off a cliff Cruella-style.  There was no in between; it was all or nothing.  I figured you’d prefer the fluff more.)_

_\--I considered saving this for my next installment of “Fluffy Fridays”, but it just fit too well within the “The Girl That I Adore” universe that I couldn’t resist._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: So there I was, minding my own business, trying to get some things done that I haven’t managed to do during the insanely busy week I just had, when a vision of Killian Jones singing his baby to sleep danced in my head. Despite the fact that I really should be practicing Christmas music or balancing my checkbook or doing laundry, my muse would not let me be until I’d written this little scene.  
> \--The song Killian sang to baby Eva was an actual Irish sea shanty called “Holy Ground.” (Yes, I actually did research; I’m a nerd like that.) I obviously changed some of the words to fit the situation at hand: The girl’s name was Dinah, not Eva, and the sailor was heading out of Holy Ground rather than Storybrooke. If you want to hear how it sounds, check out this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YE0ernCTDFY. The sound quality’s pretty poor, but it’ll give you the basic idea.  
> \--Are you ready for the midseason finale on Sunday? I’m conflicted. On the one hand I CAN’T WAIT, because it’s going to be amazing. On the other…after we watch it we’ll have to wait two and a half months until the next episode!


End file.
